


A Fine Line (Between Love and Hate; Pain and Pleasure)

by FlashySyren



Series: Two Roads, Diverged [4]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Blood, Choking, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hate Sex, I think that's all the possible triggers, Knifeplay, Rough Sex, previously established relationship, until it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashySyren/pseuds/FlashySyren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki finally reveals himself, getting exactly the reaction expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Line (Between Love and Hate; Pain and Pleasure)

“ _You_ ….” Sif hissed, trailing off when no explicative seemed appropriately fitting for the mix of rage and disgust; for the relief she would not allow herself to feel. Not now, not ever. “ _I will kill you_.” Her dagger was pressed across his throat, a line of blood welling where the blade opened his skin.

Loki _smiled_ at her, that malicious grin that she knew too well, and wanted nothing more than to wipe off his face. “Now, now, Sif. Let’s not forget your oaths.” He tisked, green eyes glittering with mirth. “That temper of yours will only get you into trouble.”

Her lips tightened and she pushed just a little more weight onto the dagger, her eyes dropping to watch his blood flow more freely. “I have not forgotten.” He had her completely cornered and they both knew it. The oaths she’d taken, believing they were offered to Odin, ensured that anything he said to her was under the strictest of confidences, and that there was no chance that his death would come at either her blade or by her planning. He’d been very comprehensive, and at the time, she’d thought him paranoid.

His chin was tipped up, pale throat arched against her dagger, and as much as she felt justified in slitting his throat, she could not. Sif would blame it on the oaths of blood, bound in seidr, but the stutter of her heart spoke of another reason she refused to acknowledge.

He moved, as she’d known he would, and she could have stopped him. Should have.

Loki’s hand wrapped around her own, fingers digging viciously into the pressure points at the back of her hand, her wrist until she heard the dagger clatter against the floor. She swung hard with her other fist and he ducked aside, releasing her hand so he could catch her around the throat, turning to slam her back against the wall.

She choked, and it was her turn to tip her head back, trying to breathe through her constricted airway, pulse pounding against the pad of his thumb, wedged under her jaw. Sif’s nails dug into his wrist, and their eyes locked.

If she’d thought him a stranger that day, sitting on the Allfather’s throne, Thor banished, he was less so than the one who met her gaze now. His nostrils flared, eyes darkening, and against better sense, she responded to the familiar press of his body, his scent washing over her, awaking the ache she’d tried so hard to ignore, thinking him dead.

Leather creaked as he bent toward her, his breath ghosting against her ear, sparking a fire under her skin. “You haven’t changed, Sif. I still know you better than you know yourself.” Loki nuzzled the narrow strip of skin under her ear and above his fingers, gripping, unforgiving, and sank his teeth into her flesh.

Sif gasped, choked when she couldn’t suck in that much air. Heat pooled, pain her favorite gateway to pleasure. Her skin prickled when he chuckled low in his chest, a moan catching in her throat.

He pulled back, covering her mouth with his, smiling against her lips when she opened to him before he could request it, and licked into her mouth, kissing her deeply, gently in comparison to his previous behavior. He waited until she was short of breath, forcing air into her lungs. “Tell me to stop. I will give you this chance and this chance alone.” When no response was forthcoming, Loki loosened his grip on her throat, letting her catch her breath. “Oh, how I’ve missed the taste of your traitorous skin.”

No longer struggling to breathe, Sif hooked her fingers into his armor, seeking hidden clasps and buckles, and Loki caught her hands, releasing her throat entirely.

“You are entirely at _my_ mercy shieldmaiden. You gave up your right to touch me when you betrayed me.”

Sif bared her teeth at him, but as much as she had to say, eloquence was never a strength of hers. “I hate you.”

“You will hate me so much more before I am finished with you tonight.” Slipping an arm between her back and the wall, he tugged her body into contact with his, the hard length of his arousal pressing into her hip before they were no longer standing in the sitting room, but in front of the giant bed that took up the center of the royal bedroom suite.

Perhaps if she was a bit less lust driven, she would have thought on the missing King whose room they were in. She would later curse herself for this weakness, but grief and loneliness were temporarily drowned out by feelings better left dead and buried.

Loki tugged the tie out of her hair, watching as it fell around her shoulders in an ebony wave. Something softened in his eyes, but Sif barely caught it before it was gone again. It was the last thing she wanted to see, not at all willing to forgive him for all of this and preferring to cling to resentment.

Defiantly she twisted her fingers into his hair, dragging him down against her mouth, her kiss hard and sharp, a scrape of teeth, the taste of blood. He growled and lifted her by the waist, tossing her onto the bed as the familiar scent of his seidr filled the air, and her arms were yanked over her head secured tightly by magic.

She pulled against her bonds, but they didn’t give, not that she had expected them to.

“I warned you, but you never have been able to take simple instruction, have you, my defiant little Valkyrie?” He was practically purring as he moved over her body unbuckling her armor and stripping it off in pieces, looking altogether much too predatory.

Sif didn’t dignify that with a response, though several burned the back of her swollen throat. He withdrew, reaching for her boots next, she kicked out at him when he touched her, and he grunted when she connected.

He withdrew out of her sight as he cast another spell, the remainder of her clothing melting away. She shivered with anticipation, as the bed dipped, and he settled between her legs. “Kick me again, Sif, and I will secure your legs as well as your arms.”

Her hips bucked into his hand as his fingers brushed her slit. “So wet, so needy. Where is that hate now?”

“I hate you plenty, trickster.” She promised, her voice a growl that wavered as he lowered himself further, his tongue replacing his fingers, and the vibration of his chuckle as electric as his touch. His tongue swirled over her clit before he closed his lips around it to suck, and Sif yanked on her hands as her body arched at the intensity of the sensation.

Shards of pleasure, as sharp as any blade, pricked along her nerve endings, intensifying and receding as Loki plied his craft, holding her off her orgasm with care. The pinch of his teeth was just as capable of pushing her over the edge as it was able to draw her back.

It felt like an eternity under his ministrations, the tease of his tongue over her burning flesh, and at some point she’d hooked her legs over his shoulders, her thighs pressed tight around his head as she shook. Sif could feel his smile, but he didn’t stop, and she knew what he wanted from her; knew that she would do anything she could not to give it to him.

Yet even as she promised herself she wouldn’t beg, his tongue was working over sensitive nerves again, teasing flicks interspersed between touches of more serious intent, the pressure of her release expanding, growing, _so close_.

Sif bit her lip until she could taste her own blood, silencing her cries, but as he backed off _again_ just as she could feel it begin to crest, she bucked her hips, fingernails digging into her palms with nothing else to grab, and _whined_.

“Ask, Sif.” He demanded, looking up at her over her body, his eyes glowing with seidr when his fingers replaced his tongue, pinching her clit.

She swallowed another cry, ending in a whimper that she couldn’t silence, and he _grinned_.

“All you have to say is please.” He told her in his lust darkened voice. “Just please and I will let you have what you need.”

 _No_. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

A shiver of seidr induced vibration cracked her resolve, and she gasped, “ _Please_.”

Loki’s armor shimmered and vanished as he moved up her body, leaving a trail of nips that dragged curses from Sif’s lips until he claimed them. She could taste herself on his tongue, but barely noticed when the tip of his erection dragged through her folds, teasing.  
Sif pulled on her hands again in frustration, finding, this time, that she was no longer restrained. She moved, her body bucking underneath Loki, arms tightening across his back to hold him close while she rolled them over.

Desperate for release, she ignored his self-satisfied smirk, giving them both what they wanted, and sank down on his length in one solid push. Her back arched, stretched and filled exactly the way she craved, the way she _missed_ being filled.

Her hips rolled, fingernails leaving marks in his chest as she set a rhythm, deep and hard, rocking just so to get the angle right, to seek those places he had purposely neglected. His hands settled on her thighs, gripping hard enough to bruise.

Loki sat up, letting go of her legs to tangle his fingers into her hair, tugging her head sharply to the side to nip her throat, soothing the mark with his tongue. His other hand splayed across her back, sliding down before sneaking over her ribs and seeking her clit again.

“Say my name, Sif. I want to hear my name and I’ll let you come.”

“ _Liar_.” She hissed, grinding her hips against his fingers desperately. She was so close, and certainly didn’t need him to let her finish this time.

“That is one name.” He murmured. “But not what I’m looking for.

“ _Liesmith, Silvertongue_.”

He chuckled, his breath washing over her skin, and he pinched, shoving her over the precipice into a violent climax.

She cried out, giving him exactly what he wanted, biting “Loki!” off like a curse.

Her orgasm, or perhaps it was hearing his name spoken so desperately, triggered his own, his hips arching up as he spilled his seed deep within her. Sif dropped her forehead against his shoulder, her body shuddering with aftershocks while she tried to catch her breath.

Loki hummed. “You smell just as I remember you.”

A scowl furrowed her brow, and she shifted, biting sharply into his shoulder, finally smiling when he jerked beneath her, gasping. “You smell like cruelty and betrayal.”

“Then we are a match, are we not?” His hand moved, tracing an idle pattern across the small of her back. “You missed me, do not deny it. I do not lie in telling you that I will make you mine.”

She hissed and pulled back. “It is only the oaths you tricked me out of that stay my blade. They override the promise I made to you.”

Loki chuckled and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “I am aware, just as I am also aware that you are glad that I live.” He gripped her chin, meeting her eyes. “Just as I can see that you are relieved not to have to make good on that promise.”

“I will never forgive you this deceit.” Her eyes were hard, but her voice was soft, and Loki leaned in to press a kiss to her lips.

“I know.”


End file.
